How To Say Goodbye
by GiorgiaKerr
Summary: Brennan is leaving D.C. for a while, and Booth is saying goodbye as only Booth can. Not nearly as angsty as it sounds, by the way. BB, as always. Final chapter up!
1. Chapter 1

**Spoilers:** Nup.

**Disclaimer:** Eh. Whatever. I like watermelon.

**Author's Note:** Umm...no comment? All I have to say is: _Writer's Block_. I can't come up with anything...substantial. It's irking me. Suggestions are appreciated!

* * *

The plane hurtled toward them and automatically, Booth's hand made it's way to her waist. Brennan looked up, over her shoulder, to glare at him. 

"What are you doing?" she asked dumbly. He smiled in a way only Booth could.

"I'm protecting you from the plane, Bones. Didn't you see how fast it was going?" he exclaimed, feigning shock. Brennan rolled her eyes and smacked his hand away firmly.

"Booth, the plane is _out there_; we're _in here_. It's a runway. There are supposed be planed going down it!" she exclaimed. "Besides, hypothetically, if a plane were actually coming at us at that speed, and it was definitely going to hit us, then putting your hand on me wouldn't be particularly useful anyway, would it?" she asked condescendingly. Booth just smiled and took a step forward and put his arm around her shoulders.

"You sure you have to go, Bones?" he asked as if it was a legitimate question.

"Not only am I sure, Booth, I _want_ to go," she replied, not a hint of annoyance left in her voice. She was simply answering Booth's question, now. He stopped at the first place he could find that served coffee and ordered one for himself and one for her before moving to a small table that looked out over the runway.

"Why?" he asked simply. She sighed. She couldn't figure out how she could possibly answer that without offending or confusing him.

"Well," she started, "It's my job," she said. Booth looked at her oddly.

"Bones, that doesn't answer my question," he reprimanded. She was silent for a few seconds while the waiter brought them their coffees. Picking hers up, she looked out over the runway.

"I love my job, Booth. I'm passionate about what I do," she paused, then turned her eyes to meet his. "I'm lucky that way." Booth smiled weakly. He hoped that he had something to do with that liking.

"Yeah, I know, Bones. It's just...I don't know. I miss you when you go away," he said quietly, smiling sheepishly. He saw her shocked expression and decided to help her out. "I mean, what is a man to do when he doesn't have to worry about being shot, or feeding anyone but himself?" he joked. Brennan smiled before kicking him under the table.

"Ow, Bones!" he cried. A few people turned around and looked at him oddly before going back to their coffees and good-byes. Brennan smiled in seeming accomplishment. Booth scowled.

"That's for being chauvinistic," she explained. He pulled a face.

"I wasn't being chauvinistic! It's true. I mean, I never know whether or not you're going to just pull your gun on me! And you never eat on your own, either. Admit it," he started playfully, leaning closer. "You _need_ me!" he played. Brennan didn't flinch, only leaned in closer.

"Need you, Booth? I don't think so! You are the one who has attachment issues," she finished curtly, a smile playing on her lips. She let herself bask in the glory when Booth's eyes grew wide in shock.

"Attachment issues? I do _not_ have attachment issues, Bones. No," he said, pointing a finger so it was only a centimetre away from her nose. She flashed him an unreadable look.

"No? Then why don't you want me to go?" she challenged, knowing she'd have him stumped on that one. He moved his hand, and surprised her by taking hers across the table. He opened his mouth, only to close it again. Instead of saying anything, he just sat, holding her hand in his, trying to read her thoughts.

--

Angela tried desperately not to run through security; that never looked good. Hodgins was virtually physically restraining her with the arm he had around her waist. She glared at him.

"Jack, Brennan's plane leaves in an hour! I have to talk to her before she boards!" she complained pitifully, getting an odd look from the security guard who was currently rummaging through her bag. "Please..." she looked at his badge, "Jason, I really have to get through!" she pouted, moving away from Hodgins to gain a little more leeway with 'Jason'.

"See, a _special_ friend of mine...she's boarding a plane really soon, and I won't see her for months..." she said sadly. She'd discovered early on that femininity was definitely a tool. But lesbianism? That was a freaking A-Bomb. The guard choked slightly, then handed her bag back to her very quickly, shooing her through. She smiled coyly and placed a hand on his upper arm as she went past.

Hodgins watched in confused amusement as the guard gawked at her touch. He was constantly amazed by Angela's charms. And shamelessness. Having ho bags, he passed through almost as quickly as she did.

Almost.

He ran to catch up with her. She was almost running. "Why don't you call her?" he suggested as soon as he was close enough. Angela's face lit up and she kissed him hard.

"That is the best idea you've ever had!" she exaggerated. Not that Hodgins cared. She pulled out her phone and hit the speed-dial button for Brennan's phone.

--

Brennan wasn't sure if she could take Booth's stare any longer. His eyes were boring into her, and it made her slightly uncomfortable; there was a chance that she was showing more than she knew. And he was better at reading her than anyone else. Except, maybe Angela.

At that moment, her phone buzzed in her pocket. She started and grabbed her leg. Booth looked on, shocked. "Bones? You okay?" he asked worriedly. Brennan smiled as she pulled out her phone, waggling it in front of him. "Ah," he grunted, picking up his previously forgotten coffee.

"Brennan."

"Bren! Where are you?" she asked somewhat desperately.

"I'm at the...Booth, where are we?" she continued. Booth shot her a look and she mouthed 'Angela'. He told her the name of the place and she relayed it to Angela.

"You're with Booth? I thought you said you weren't going to ask him to come to the airport," she said, confused, but secretly ecstatic. She heard Brennan sigh, then scold Booth for something as she wandered over to where Brennan had told them they were.

"Huh? Oh. I didn't, Ange. He just came. He picked me up this morning. It made sense, because then I wouldn't have to catch a cab or leave my car here," she stated, simplifying the gesture beyond belief. Angela rolled her eyes as she approached the cafe. She spotted Booth and Brennan in the far corner, but stopped, phone still to her ear.

Maybe she could have some fun. She never got to see how they acted while alone, because, well, they were alone. But now...

"Bren? I need to go to the bathroom. I'll be about ten minutes. See you soon, Sweetie!" she called as she hung up.

She turned her full attention to the table a few metres in front of her, side on to Booth and Brennan who were sitting opposite each other at a strikingly close proximity. Angela grinned. _Let the show begin_, she thought.

As Brennan hung up, she shrugged and spoke to Booth, probably explaining Angela's lack of presence. Booth shrugged in return and grinned at Brennan. Angela smiled, though slightly offended, when she saw a hint of relief in his face.

His face turned serious, and he grabbed her hand across the table. Angela's eyebrows lifted, and she automatically put out an arm to stop a just-arrived Hodgins from entering, motioning to them with her free hand. He nodded in understanding and walked away to find something better to do.

Angela crossed her arms and continued to watch as Booth picked Brennan's hand up and looked studiously at them. Brennan's gaze followed his, and she tried to pull her hand away. _Come on, Bren_, Angela urged mentally. She sighed with relief when Booth didn't let her hand go, instead, to her shock, and apparently Brennan's, he brought it up to his lips and pressed a kiss to her knuckles.

Angela gawked as Brennan's eyes closed automatically and Booth's thumb ran over the spot he'd just kissed. She knew they had their share of, albeit weird, affection; but she'd never seen this coming. Surely, she'd chosen a very coincidental day to spy on her friends.

She'd expected them to bicker, or press so close they could kiss, or hug, at least, but what she was seeing now wasn't any of that. What she was seeing now was care that ran much deeper than sexual tension or the power of suggestion. She saw Booth say something, and Brennan laughed, raising her eyebrows in what Angela took to be skepticism before she leaned across the table and kissed Booth's cheek softly.

Angela knew what he had said.

* * *

So, what did he say? Oooh! Tricky! Any review will be loved and appreciated!

Thank you for reading!

Giorgia


	2. Chapter 2

**Spoilers:** Nada.

**Disclaimer: **Not mine, whatever.

**Author's Note:** This chapter is dedicated to my newly acquired Science teacher and his geological horror stories with morals. Really. I think he scared half my class out of joining Hydro Tasmania. And yes, sorry it took so long, but it's been an odd week. As soon as I get on the computer, I've typed about two lines, then someone kicks me off. Frowns It's very annoying when you're trying to write something. So. Apologies if it doesn't flow very well...

* * *

The past hour played through Brennan's head like a movie reel as she sat curled up in her seat on the plane. She was for once thankful that her publishers had done such a good job with her books as she looked around the first class compartment. 

As she did, she noted the anthropological side of the class system. The richer were up the front; more room, closer to the pilot, better service. Brennan smiled to herself. If the plane were to crash, they were all going to die anyway, regardless of class. _Some may just go down more comfortably than others,_ she thought wryly as she pulled her blanket around her further, sinking into a seat about twice her size.

She closed her eyes and let the play list begin again.

--

_"She had to go to the bathroom," Brennan's stated flatly, slightly confused. Booth laughed, then reached back over to grab Brennan's hand. She tried to pull her hand away, jerking her arm back, nearly knocking over her coffee. _

_It wasn't like she didn't like it. It was just that she wasn't used to it; used to a man showing any kind of non-sexual affection for her. She looked at him oddly when he didn't let her hand go. But, to her shock, before she could scold him, her hand was at his lips. She closed her eyes, savoring the feeling beyond her better judgment. _

_When he pulled her hand away, he ran a hand over her knuckles, making her hand tingle even more. She finally opened her eyes, meeting his. They were a mixture of sadness and something she couldn't pin down for a very long time. _Affection_, she finally surmised. It was the kind of look that people often gave their children when they were going away. It gave her butterflies. _

_Booth smiled softly and spoke three words. _

_Brennan laughed, not quite sure what he meant by saying it, and looked at him unbelievingly. She only saw the same emotions playing on his face as had been there before. As she figured out what he had meant, she did as she had done in the hospital: she leaned across and kissed him softly. To both of them, it said more than any words Brennan would speak, or ever could._

--

She heard a voice calling her name, and someone shook her shoulder. She woke with a start, nearly knocking over the stewardess who had been waking her.

"Oh, sorry," she said lamely. The stewardess smiled a smile that only people in her business were capable of.

"It's okay, Doctor Brennan! But we're about to land, so you'll need to put your seatbelt on," she said cheerily. Brennan nodded dumbly and wondered how mane people the girl had had to say that to.

She reached into her bag and pulled out her book, trying to keep her mind off those three words. It was something she had never expected him to say to her. More than that, she never expected she'd react the way she had. She kissed him. She kissed Booth.

She'd done it before, but that only made it weirder. Because she'd done it before, he may consider it a recurring thing. Only once; twice, now. She didn't want to give Booth the wrong impression. But, if she was honest with herself, she didn't know what the wrong impression _was_. She couldn't think of anything that would technically and completely classify their relationship.

They were partners first. Always; they had each other's backs, they worked together. But they were friends, something that had taken her a long time to admit to even herself. She still wasn't sure which meant more. As partners, they looked after one another, _relied_ on one another. But as friends, they talked, joked and confided in each other.

Being friends kept them sane.

Being partners kept them alive.

The more she thought about it, the more it became apparent to her that the two were symbiotic, in a sense. If they'd never been partners, then they wouldn't be friends at all, because they'd never have met. But if they'd never been friends, then they wouldn't still be partners, or they'd be a very defective crime-fighting team.

So, really, either way she logically analyzed it, she always ended up at the same conclusion: The conclusion she didn't want. The conclusion Booth had spoken to her earlier that day. That she was sure he'd say just as vehemently when she got back. The conclusion that Brennan wanted to affirm, yet never could.

And now she was on a plane to Indonesia.

--

"Booth?" Angela coaxed. "Say something, G-Man, you're scaring me." He finally turned to her, a look of pure thought on his face. Something she was sure he'd gleaned from Brennan. He opened his mouth only a fraction before closing it, his frown deepening.

"I think...I'm going to miss her, Angela," he sighed, almost happy to admit it to her. Now all he had to do was admit it to Brennan, and something might finally change. Or at the very least she'd _know_.

"We're all going to miss her, Booth. If you ever need to talk..." she trailed off, letting her look say the rest. Booth smiled thankfully and nodded. Angela took his arm and pulled him away from the window.

"Staring at the runway isn't going to bring her back any faster, Booth," she stated soothingly, as if he were one of the emotionally fragile she did forensic sketches for almost every day. He looked again at the runway, then back to Angela, then started walking away, Angela following, her arm through his.

"Booth?" Angela asked hopefully. Booth looked at her questioningly. "Do you think I could get a ride back to the Jeffersonian? Hodgins took my car when he left..."

"Sure, Ange," he smiled, and she grinned back with a 'thank you'.

About half way there, stuck in traffic, Angela turned to stare at Booth. "Why do you keep flashing looks at me?" she asked accusingly but oddly curious.

"What? I'm not looking at you!" he argued, staring at her incredulously, knowing full well he was lying. Unfortunately, Angela did too. He sighed when she looked pointedly at him.

"Fine. I was. It's just that Bones usually sits there, and I keep..." he waved his hand around, looking for the words.

"Wishing I was her?" Angela offered, eyebrows raised, a small smile on her face; half sympathy, half smugness.

"Well, I was going to say: 'keep forgetting she's gone. But yeah, that, too," he admitted. "No offence." Angela's smile widened.

"It's okay, Booth. She _will _be back, you know. And in only three weeks. You'll be okay," she soothed, though she couldn't keep the knowing smile off her face. He looked worriedly at her, knuckles almost white from his steel grip on the steering wheel.

"It isn't me I'm worried about," he stated simply. Angela nodded, patting his leg.

"Yeah, G-Man, I know. But the woman can take care of herself better than anyone I know; she'll be _fine_," she emphasized with a smile. Booth looked at her, as if to judge whether or not she was lying to him. Finally, he nodded.

"Yeah. She can. Sorry. I shouldn't be worrying," he said as much for his own benefit as for Angela's. Angela smiled widely, cheekily.

"So...what did you say to Bren today to make her kiss you?" she asked impishly. Booth stared at her, wide eyed.

"You saw that?" he cried. Angela laughed at his shocked expression; he looked more uncomfortable than she'd ever made him. It was too fun to let go.

"Yes, obviously, Booth. So, what did you say?" she pried. Booth winced, but couldn't help the smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth.

"That," he started, "Is between me and Bones." Angela sat back in her chair, pouting. She stopped prying and tried for pleading.

"Please? If you tell me, I may be able to help you," she tried. _If in doubt; bribe_, she thought happily. Booth looked at her oddly.

"I don't need your help, Angela. I'm doing just fine on my own," he sulked. Angela grinned again.

"So you admit it!" she squealed. Booth flushed out of both anger and embarrassment.

"I didn't admit to anything! There's nothing to admit _to_, Angela," he added, trying not to bury himself just yet. He didn't even believe it himself. They sat in silence for a few minutes as the traffic moved forward at about the speed of a snail on Valium.

"I told her I'd be waiting," Booth said suddenly. "I told her I'd wait for her." Angela looked at him, shocked. She knew how much that would have meant to Brennan; how much more it said to her than most people. And, obviously, so did Booth.

Angela smiled sweetly. "'Waiting'. Yep, that'd do it," she said quietly, her mind somewhere else. "That means a lot to her, you know, Booth. A lot." She turned in the car to face him. He looked somewhere between a smile and tears.

Finally, he smiled back at her. "Yeah, I know."

* * *

So? What do y'all think of this chapter?

Love.


	3. Chapter 3

**Spoilers:** Yadda, yadda, yadda.

**Disclaimer:** This chapter's for Bethany! See what I did, Beth? I took you're advice! Maybe...Or _did_ I? Oooh.

**Author's Note:** I'm finding it very hard to type today for some reason...Not _write_; type. I keep stuffing up...Anyhow. Yes, maths homework keeps interfering with my writing schedule. It's annoying, but I have to do my maths, or else I'll fall behind and fail Methods, and then I'll fail my life completely. No joke.

* * *

"Booth," Booth mumbled into his phone, still half asleep. There was a long pause, then he heard a quiet greeting.

"Hello, Mr. Seeley Booth?" Booth rolled his eyes, hearing a distinctly Asian hint to the voice. Annoyed at having been woken up, and not liking call centres in the first place, he sighed loudly.

"Look. Whatever it is, I don't need or want it. Now, please, I'm trying to sleep. I'm going to hang up now," he grumbled as politely as he could. He didn't particularly want to offend the person for simply doing his job. He wanted to kill him.

"No, sir. I'm calling about a Doctor Temperance Brennan of the Jeffersonian Institute in Washington, D.C.," the man stated flatly. Booth sat straight up. He was interested now. But still annoyed. Now he just wanted the man to get to the point. He forced back the urge to yell.

"What? What happened? Tell me, dammit!" he demanded through clenched jaws. His hand was holding the phone so tightly that he heard a crack.

"Sir, there's no need to be worried. Doctor Brennan is okay, just...in ill health. You were listed as her emergency contact?" he queried calmly, only pissing Booth off more. How could he be calm?

"If she's okay, why do you need an emergency contact?" he asked, curious, but fuming. He couldn't pull the fear out of his body, and he noticed that his hands were shaking. The man continued to be annoying.

"Are you the Seeley Booth on her medical forms?" he persisted. Booth's jaw bulged, and the phone cracked again.

"Yes," he stated tersely, not trusting himself to say any more. He took a few deep breaths as the man explained to him that he was a doctor at the hospital in the nearest facility to where Brennan had been working.

"She was here working with victims of a landslide, and she ended up in the wrong place. It was unstable, but she told everyone to leave her alone. At least, that's what her associates tell me," he finished. Booth shut his eyes, trying to control his temper. A landslide. She'd been caught in a landslide? _Dammit, Temperance!_ He yelled in his head. _Stubborn, impossible, determined, Bones!_

"She is in the hospital here, but we are flying her back to D.C. on the orders of our local authorities. We can't take care of her here, we simply do not have the facilities, and the closest hospital that does is in Jakarta." To Booth, who was hardly listening anyway, the news made no sense at all. All he needed to know was that she was going back to D.C.

"She...when will she be here?" he asked, his voice suddenly quiet. He kept his eyes closed. Fighting off the dizziness that had invaded his head like a virus.

"She will be in D.C. in no more than..." he paused, presumably checking times, "Fifteen hours." Booth's eyes snapped open, and a wave of pain ran down his spine. He grunted in pain.

"Fine. Thank you. Which hospital?" he asked trying to sound calm for fear of hurting himself again. Or fear of losing it completely.

"Sibley Memorial, near Bethesda," the man stated matter-of-factly. Booth nodded pointlessly.

"Thanks," he mumbled. "Is that all?" He didn't want to talk to the man anymore. It wasn't helping. All he wanted to do was see His Bones. _Trust her to hurt herself and defy authority on the other side of the world_, he thought wryly, taking note of the pride he felt. He then kicked himself mentally.

"No, sir, I think that's all. Are you able to meet her there?"

"Yes. Yes, I'll be there. Thank you."

"_Kempala_. You're welcome. Good bye," the doctor said kindly, hanging up. Booth kept the phone to his ear for a few minutes before throwing it at the wall.

--

Angela woke up suddenly, looking around the bedroom. Hodgins stirred, but didn't wake up. She heard her name called again from the door. Frowning, she moved to the front door, grabbing a T-shirt on the way there. It sounded urgent, and underwear probably wasn't the best way to go.

She opened the door slowly to find a very troubled looking Booth on her doorstep. She flung the door open, all but dragging him inside. "Booth! What's wrong? Are you okay?" She led him to the couch, sitting him down, debating whether or not to put some more clothes on.

She figured that Booth wouldn't care. He looked too distraught. And besides, his eyes were only for one woman; and Angela knew it wasn't her. "Booth. Talk to me," she said, sounding much like she had the week before, but this time there was not a trace of entertainment in her voice.

"It's Bones," he started, his voice cracking slightly. "She, uh. I got a call from a hospital in Indonesia." He didn't know what else to say. He wrung his hands, feeling utterly helpless. He knew he'd feel like crap until Brennan got to D.C.

Angela's eyes widened in shock and fear. "Oh my God, Booth! What the hell happened? Is she okay?" she yelled. Booth put a hand on hers, not meeting her eyes.

"Yeah, I think she'll be alright. They're, uh, they're bringing her back home. But she won't be here for," he checked his watch. "Thirteen hours and twenty-three minutes." Angela smiled weakly; he'd been keeping perfect time. "I didn't know what to do with myself. And I thought you'd like to know."

Angela let out a somewhat relieved sigh. "Oh, thank God. And thank you, Booth. For telling me. I'm glad I heard it from you," she said, shooting him a small smile. Booth nodded, finally raising his eyes to meet hers.

"I'm scared, Ange," he admitted. She nodded.

"I know, Sweetie, I am, too. But she's resilient. More so than anyone either of us know, right?" Booths smiled distantly, as if remembering, then tightened his grip on her hand. She did the same, then leaned her head on his shoulder, sighing.

"Now we wait," she whispered.

--

Booth and Angela jumped up at for the tenth time in so many minutes. They had been on their feet every time someone had been through the corridor. They sighed and sat back down when they saw an old man on the gurney. Angela looked over at a wrecked-looking Booth.

"Hey, I'm going to go get us some coffee, okay?" she told him, patting his shoulder. Booth nodded mutely, shooting a glance at her, with an attempt at a smile. He failed miserably, but she smiled back, then turned and walked down the corridor swiftly. Booth hung his head between his legs, his fingers linked on the back of his head, almost as if he were being arrested.

He swore quietly under his breath, feeling the need to cry at the same time as wanting to kick something very, very hard. His frustration built up as he checked his watch again.

Less than one hour, now. Than is, if he went by the Indonesian doctor's estimation.

Angela was still gone ten minutes later when they wheeled Brennan in. Booth was on his feet immediately.

"Bones!" He ran over to her as the doctors stopped momentarily to let him see her. He vaguely registered the fact that they stopped meant that she didn't need such urgent attention. He placed a hand on her face. "Temperance, I'm waiting," he whispered. He wiped some dirt off her cheek.

"We have to get her into surgery," a nurse stated flatly. The gurney was gone before Booth could say anything more. He wasn't sure whether he could walk anyway. And he knew well enough that he wouldn't be allowed to see her for a while longer.

"Are you Seeley Booth?" one doctor finally asked. Booth nodded at the small woman, looking back at His Bones down the corridor. "We had to induce coma, to stop her brain from sustaining too much damage. Booth's eyes closed tightly, and he ran his hands over his face a few times.

"I'm told she doesn't have any family, so you are in charge of making all the decisions pertaining to her treatment," she started. Booth's eyes snapped open.

"She _has_ a family," he snapped a little too abruptly. The woman, used to grief-induced outbursts, didn't flinch. She nodded sympathetically, then led Booth back to his chair.

"She has some internal bleeding, and there's some dirt partly blocking her airways. Her head sustained some massive damage, so we've induced coma, but she should pull through. It is most likely a matter of when," she said carefully, not wanting to make any promises. Booth nodded just as Angela rounded the corner holding a coffee in each hand. She saw Booth sitting with the doctor, tears in his eyes.

She dropped both coffees and ran to Booth and the doctor moved out of hearing range to give them some privacy. "Booth?" she called when she saw his distant expression. "She's here?" Angela almost sobbed, relief and worry both evident in her voice. Booth nodded, then looked at her, smiling feebly.

"Yeah, she's here. She's in surgery, with an induced coma. But they're confident. I think. I...Ange, she's..." he shoved his face back into his hands. Angela knelt on the floor in front of him and pulled him into a hug, tears on her cheeks.

"She'll be okay, Booth. She has to be. She won't leave when you're waiting for her," she said, smiling up at him. Booth picked up her hand and kissed it in a silent thanks, before standing up.

He had some things he wanted to get.

* * *

Sorry if it was too angsty, or whatever...Hope it wasn't! But it needed to happen. Haha. Well, not really. But that's not the point. Actually, I don't have a point. I'm just cold.

Anyhow. I've you've gotten this far, would you be so kind as to review? I'd love to know what you all think, because it does make very much of a difference! Thanks!

Love.


	4. Chapter 4

**Spoilers:** Hello, all!

**Disclaimer:** Whatever.

**Author's Note:** Okay, so, this story is rapidly spiralling out of my control. It was supposed to be a oneshot, and now it has four chapters, and I believe (depending on reviews) that there will be more. Oops. Sorry about the time it took; I've not had the computer for long enough in a while. I spent half this afternoon stalking my kitchen, studying my brother's dental X-rays until I could have the computer. Seriously. That's what I've been reduced to...

And then there's the maths homework...

Then again, this really _could_ be the last chapter if you all think it should be. Okay, school time. I had a lot to say today...

* * *

The pain of the burning in her chest was what brought her back, not the voices, the intolerable, incessant beeping or the warmth spreading from her hand up through her arm to her torso. She shifted to try and alleviate the pain. She recognized the sting of what could only be broken ribs. She tried to take a deep breath just to check, but couldn't feel the air move down her throat; she must still be buried. She shut her eyes tighter.

She moved through each bone of the body, head to toe, to keep the pain out of her mind. When she'd reached the metatarsals of the left foot, the pain became too much and she tried to scream, only to be stopped by the dirt in her throat. She coughed, trying to spit it out and failing miserably. She grunted pointlessly, still too unconscious to try anything further.

Voices pierced her ears, sounding distant and muffled. If she screamed, maybe they'd find her; but she couldn't scream. And if she had limited oxygen, screaming would slim her chances of survival considerably. Her throat momentarily burned like her chest, but then she could breathe again; it hurt, but she could breathe.

Then she heard a very familiar voice. At first she thought she was hallucinating, due to the pain, but she slowly came to hear more and more.

It was definitely him. He was there. But why was he there? She'd been buried in Indonesia and he'd come to find her? She tried unsuccessfully to shake her head rid of the thoughts. Or course not. She couldn't have been there for long enough for him to have arrived, anyway, surely. The flight was so long, and she couldn't possibly have survived underground for any extended period of time.

The warmth left her hand and appeared again on her face and she suddenly felt as if she were being pulled in more directions than the human body is designed to withstand, and she cried out again. Only this time, she could hear herself. Her voice was scratchy, and hardly above a whisper, but it was there. The dirt was gone.

She heard her name being called in the familiar voice again, and she tried desperately to open her eyes. This time she was almost successful, but it made her eyes sting, and she closed them tight again. The warmth on her face spread and moved, as if a living thing, and she wondered how badly injured she must be to contain such numb wounds.

Then she heard her name again. No, it wasn't her name it was…something…something else; something more. Something that she couldn't place, but each time she heard it, she was more and more sure that she was alive, and that she wanted to open her eyes.

Her eyes stung from the dirt, but she opened them anyway, as best she could. With her lids near half way open, blinding light cut through her pupils, shooting a new wave of pain into her already throbbing head. She blinked slowly, testing the leeway she had with her eyes. The pain in her chest had lessened, but she had an awful taste at the back of her throat. She coughed painfully again.

She knew she wasn't underground now. The light was so bright that she couldn't see even after what must have been a full minute. Wherever she was had gone quiet now. Silence echoed around the room, the only noise a light hiccoughing that sounded like laughter or crying; she wasn't sure which. Her hand became warm again and her vision began to return.

Her eyelids flickered as she opened them further, trying to find the source of this idle noise, of this wonderful warmth now covering her hand.

She could open her eyes fully now, but all she could see was white. Just white. She turned her head slightly and she could make out fuzzy shapes within the white. She closed her eyes, then opened them carefully, most of the fuzziness gone by this point. She looked down at her warm hand and saw something that surely didn't belong there; the colour of dirt.

She moved her hand as much as she could, trying to get it off. But the dirt moved, and became a face. She blinked hazily, her head pounding. The warmth moved to her cheek again as the face spoke.

"Bones?"

* * *

Angela ran into the hospital as fast as she could, leaving Hodgins behind her to fill in the blank stares of the nurse who happened to be unfortunate enough to be on desk-duty tonight. "Brennan?" she called, not even half way up the corridor. She stopped automatically at the closed door as she heard muffled voices.

"I was _not_ scared. You know why? Because Rangers are scared of nothing. I was _worried_. I was not _scared_." Angela laughed at Booth's defensiveness, recalling what he'd admitted to her only a few days before. She almost cried when she heard Brennan's voice.

"Well, neither was I. And I was the one who had a right to be scared, anyway." Angela laughed again both at hearing her friend's familiar voice and at the fact that she hadn't been awake three hours and already she'd managed to offend Booth. There was silence in the room and she knocked softly on the door.

Booth called for her to come in, and was immediately reprimanded by Brennan as Angela walked into the room. "Booth! You can't just invite people into _my_ room. It could be considered an invasion of privacy. Which, as I recall, is not particularly legal in many ways." Angela laughed.

"Hi, Sweetie! God, I was so scared! The doctors said you might never wake up because of the coma, and they weren't sure how long you'd have if you didn't, and that in your will you'd strictly fought against living on life support, and that if you were ever in a situation like that, that they'd have to pull the plug and that-" she stopped, drawing in a huge breath when she looked at Brennan's small smile.

Brennan uncharacteristically held out her hand to Angela, and Booth excused himself. Brennan called him back. When he turned around, concern in his eyes she smirked at him.

"At least Angela was man enough to admit she was scared," she teased. Booth scowled, but Angela could see the relief and care in his eyes and she smiled at him as he left the room.

Angela looked at her friend and grinned, bursting into tears and hysterical laughter. Brennan started at first, then watched her friend and soon joined in.

* * *

Booth and Hodgins stood in the hallway, watching the two women through the window at just the right distance to give them privacy; but Booth still didn't want to let Brennan out of his sight.

Hodgins and Booth grinned as Angela and Brennan started laughing. Hodgins cast a glance at the reception desk, and grabbed Booth's arm when he saw Zach and Cam standing at the desk with the unfortunate nurse. He looked back to Angela and Brennan, then to Booth. Booth was laughing quietly. He patted him on the back, then moved quickly down the corridor towards the other Squints.

When Booth first saw Brennan and Angela laugh, he knew he should have felt some kind of jealousy. Normally, he would have. But as much as he'd never admitted it, at that moment he knew that he loved them both so much that to see them laughing, and crying, together only made him happier.

* * *

Brennan moved into her apartment awkwardly, Booth's hand on her elbow the main thing keeping her upright, as much as it was annoying. She may have nearly died, but she was still the same, irritable person.

"Booth, I don't see why this is necessary. I'm _home_. Not in a foreign country," she complained as she swivelled to face him, nearly landing herself on the floor in the process. Booth pulled her upright, made sure she was balanced properly.

"_That_ is why it is necessary. Besides, if you can get _buried in a landslide_ on the other side of the country, it's worrying what you could do around electrical appliances," he stated matter-of-factly, but with a hint of amusement in his eyes. She rolled her eyes.

"Fine. Then put your...stuff in the...um...Well, there isn't really anywhere to put it," she said as she looked around the apartment. "Oh, well, I suppose you'll just have to go home, then!" she tried, smiling. Booth chuckled.

"Yeah, Bones; that'll work," he said sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

"Okay, if you really feel you must, I think there's a few drawers empty from the clothes I took to Indonesia with me. I need to wash them all, anyway, and I don't actually need so much drawer-space. I just use it because it's there," she stated nonchalantly, factually, as she led him into the bedroom, motioning him to give her the bag. He shook his head.

"No way, Bones! You're injured!" he protested in what he thought was a valiant tone. Brennan didn't share the same sentiment. The woman in her was both touched and insulted.

"Exactly. I'm _injured_, not an invalid. And fine. I'll go make some coffee. Unless you think that's too strenuous, too," she said, annoyed. Booth grinned at her.

"No, a coffee would be wonderful, Bones," he said, mockingly oblivious to her sarcasm. She turned on her heel and left, closing the door half-way behind her. Booth smiled at his victory and looked around the room.

"Very Bones," he muttered, smiling, as he took his relatively small bag to the only dresser he saw in the room. He realized that he didn't know which drawer to use; so he simply began opening them without a second thought.

Until he found her underwear.

He paused for a second, scanning the drawer quickly. He smiled than quickly shut the drawer, feeling slightly awkward about invading her privacy like that. But he was just man. He would worry more if he _hadn't_ stopped.

After finding the right drawer, he placed his few clothes and toiletries in the drawer, standing back unashamedly to admire it. All he could think was that he had a drawer. He chuckled before closing the drawer and making his way into the kitchen to receive his long-needed coffee.

For someone who worked in law enforcement, Bones made damn good coffee. _Probably because she's a genius and never sleeps_, Booth thought wryly. She turned around to face him.

"Hey. It'll just be a minute," she said, referring to the mouth-watering coffee. Booth nodded and smiled at her.

"It's okay. I've got nowhere to be," he teased. She narrowed her eyes at him, muttering something about 'attachment issues'. In turn, he muttered something about 'psychology'. As she turned around, her back to him, they both hid a smile.

* * *

So, what do you think? Should I continue, or leave it here? I'm not sure, myself, so it's up to you! Feedback is much, much appreciated! Thank you!

Love.


	5. Chapter 5

**Sopilers:** Eeh.

**Disclaimer:** Whatever. I'm not sure how good this chapter is, so feel free to tell me if it's awful.

**Author's Note: **Guess who's finished her maths, Science and Biology homework?

* * *

"Ow!" Booth screamed. Brennan shot up in her bed. What on earth was happening out there? She jumped up and ran out of her room. With any luck, he hadn't been blown up again.

"Booth, what the hell are you doing out here?" she said as she rounded the corner into her living room, swiveling when his voice came from the opposite direction.

"Oh, morning, Bones! Sorry to wake you, but your kettle hates me," he said with a little nod, running his hand under the tap. Brennan smiled at the absurdity of the comment.

"Booth, a kettle cannot hate; it has no emotions," she stated condescendingly, moving over to help Booth, who held one hand under the tap while the other proceeded to pour coffee. He was scowling at the offending kettle, which stood about a foot away from him on the bench.

"Booth, you're going to hurt yourself again. Or break something. Stop!" she called when he nearly dropped a mug. She laughed, taking a glance at a very guilty looking Booth. Rolling her eyes, she took the mug from his hand and set it safely out of his reach. Once she's taken anything else breakable out of his grasp, she moved to study his hand.

Pulling it out of the stream of water, she moved it to her face, as if it were a bone. Booth smiled at her expression, but winced when she poked his hand. "Ow, Bones!"

She laughed again. "Baby."

"That hurt! I swear you take _pleasure_ in hurting me. Really, it's sadistic," he said, putting on Sweets' voice. "Sadism can often be derived from working in situation such as the two of you do-"

"Shut up, Booth. Your hand is fine. And _I'm _not the one who has dreams about S and M," she countered. Booth looked at her as he had the kettle.

"I do not. And my hand isn't fine." To make her point, she poked his hand again. "Or it might be if you stop _poking_ it!"

Brennan smiled, dropping his hand. "Baby." She turned around to finish making the coffee Booth had attempted. Booth studied her for the first time that morning. He had to admit; he _really_ liked living with Bones. Even if they annoyed each other to no end. He looked her up and down as her back was turned to him. He'd only been there three days, and he was afraid that he'd never really want to leave.

But he knew that as soon as the bruise on her stomach healed, and the stitches were out, he'd have to leave. She'd make him leave, because he'd have no excuse to stay. She turned and handed him a coffee, smiling.

"Thanks," he said, absent-mindedly reaching up to play with a strand of her messy hair.

"Um, Booth...what are you doing?" Booth's eyes widened as he saw his hand and then they immediately found a spot on the floor.

"I...um..." he stuttered as he raised his eyes. But they met hers and he couldn't say anything more for embarrassment and fear of getting hurt. "I'm going to have a shower."

Brennan looked at his retreating back, startled. What _had_ he been doing? _Maybe there was something in my hair,_ she thought, nodding. That must have been it. He was just being helpful. That was very like Booth; to be helpful. Convincing herself of this the whole time, she proceeded to clean up, turning the radio onto the morning news.

Both stood in the shower with his head against the wall. What the hell had he been _thinking_? "Stupid, stupid, stupid!" he mumbled into the wall. The problem he'd always had with Brennan was that she made him comfortable to the point where he often did whatever he felt naturally a lot of the time; she took away most of his self-consciousness. But at the same time, he had to watch everything he did around her; she seriously tested his self-control.

With Bones, it was one step wrong, and the whole dance would have to begin again. If at all.

Brennan looked at the clock. Booth had only been in the shower five minutes, and she'd no cleaning-up left, so she moved into her bedroom. She began pulling things out of her closet and tossing them on the bed carelessly. They'd been hanging up; they didn't need ironing, she surmised. She took a peek out the window; it was breezy and thickly overcast. She added a few more items to the pile on her bed.

She shot a look at the bathroom door. Booth would be another few minutes. She pulled off her pyjama shirt, keeping an eye on the door. She'd just finished putting her bra on when the door opened. She let out a surprised yelp, and Booth sort of choked. They stood there in silence, about three metres apart, both half-naked for the better part of a minute.

Neither was sure what exactly to do; whether to turn around and pretend it had never happened; whether to apologize and forgive; whether to hurriedly get dressed. Instead, they stood staring at each other across the room.

Booth was the one who broke eye contact, his eyes sweeping her up and down. He swallowed. This was not something he was going to forget. Ever. Ironic, really, considering the fact that he knew quite well he'd never see it again.

_May as well make the most of it, _he said, smiling crookedly. _You're sick, Seeley..._ He proceeded to study her.

Brennan meant to tell Booth off when his eyes began roaming her body, but she couldn't say anything. She blushed and crossed her arms across her stomach and the bruise that still covered most of it. But she couldn't help mimicking Booth's actions, her eyes drifting of their own fantastic accord.

Oh yes, well structured indeed. Only much, much more than simply well structured. Her thoughts began echoing her eyes, drifting from one thought to another before she had any control over them. Mostly, all she could think was how much she wanted to see the rest of him. Preferably now.

"Does it hurt?"

Brennan looked up startled and embarrassed. She frowned at his words, knowing neither the question nor the answer. He smiled faintly.

"Your stomach," he said quietly. "Does it hurt?" Even now she knew the question, she was still confused. Why was he asking her that? She couldn't help, though, to be somewhat touched by his tone of voice. He really wanted to know; he really cared whether it did or not.

"Um..." she laughed awkwardly as he moved towards her. "No," she lied. He stood directly in front of her, and, to her surprise, placed a hand on her stomach as lightly as he could. She winced at the action that would normally cause her no more than confusion.

"I think you're lying, Bones," Booth prodded softly. She could still hear, though, a little bit of amusement in his tone. She figured she had better tell the truth, or he'd proceed to put pressure on her stomach.

"Yes, it hurts. Especially when there's pressure on it," she said pointedly. But now that the pain had eased a little, all she could think of was Booth's hand lying so comfortably on her bare stomach.

He seemed to be having no trouble with it, however, and he moved his hand to her waist. He leaned down to whisper in her ear, making sure he didn't come in contact with her bruised stomach; which caused him to place his other hand on her shoulder for balance.

"You know, you can tell me when you're in pain, Bones. Trust me, I've had my fair share," he said. She could feel him smiling against her ear. She nodded almost imperceptibly.

"Thanks, Booth," she said seriously. She really was thankful, but their current positions weren't really helping her relax. He trailed a hand down her face as he pulled away from their almost-hug.

"Any time, Bones. I'm here till those stitches come out," he stated in a stubborn I'm-not-leaving voice. He moved to 'his drawer' and pulled out underwear and a t-shirt, then to the closet to grab a suit. He flashed her a smile before closing the bathroom door.

Brennan sank onto her bed. _Uh oh..._

* * *

Angela ran into the lab twenty minutes early that morning, eager to be there on Brennan's first arrival after she'd come back from Indonesia. She smiled when she saw Zach and Hodgins were there, too. They were just sitting on the couches near her office, discussing the movie they'd watched the night before.

"Dude, you've got it all wrong! Okay, so the evil ones were the ones from outer-space, and the good ones were the ones from the core of the Earth!" Hodgins concluded. Angela laughed at the seriousness of his tone in talking about such a stupid thing and moved to sit with them, grabbing a doughnut from the box on the table.

Zach looked perplexed. "I'm telling you, Hodgins, they weren't evil! Their civilization was falling apart, and they were simply trying to claim another planet as their own, because it was the only other inhabitable one. It's the ones from the core of the Earth who were evil," he finished, earning another giggle from Angela.

Hodgins sat forward in his seat, leaning over the table so he was closer to Zach. "Did you _see_ those things? Dude, they _ate_ the main character's girlfriend!" he almost yelled. Angela couldn't help herself this time and she cracked up laughing, earning glares from both men. If she could currently call them 'men'.

"Okay, okay! I'm going!" she said, holding up her hands in defeat. She plodded off to wait in Brennan's office with her doughnut.

* * *

"Okay, I understand the 'what', it's just the 'why' I don't get."

"Because, Bones," he sighed. "You'll see when we get inside, okay?" Brennan rolled her eyes.

"Okay, fine." He grinned at her, placing a hand on her back.

* * *

"Announcing!"

Angela started on hearing Booth's voice booming across the lab. What on Earth was he doing?

"The magnificent..."

She stood up, walking to the lean on the doorway as Booth walked up the stairs.

"The amazing..."

Hodgins and Zach joined her, looks of confusion on all three faces.

"The _alive..._"

Angela stood up straight as she saw Brennan walking behind a very enthusiastic looking Booth.

"Temperance Brennan," he finished, turning away from the Squints towards a rather uncomfortable looking Brennan. He winked at her and she rolled her eyes as Angela ran over to her.

"Bren! You're back!" she screamed, all but throwing herself on her friend. Brennan gasped at the pain of the contact but Angela didn't seem to notice in her excitement. When she pulled back, she saw that Brennan had tears in her eyes. "You're crying, Brennan," she stated.

"I...um...I'm just happy to see you all, Ange; at work," she lied. Booth wasn't sure whether to intervene or laugh. He settled for smiling and wincing incrementally.

Hodgins and Zach both did the same; each time hurting her more, but she didn't say anything. Booth knew from times like these how much her friends meant to her. He'd only _touched_ her this morning and she'd cringed. These three were basically assaulting her.

Brennan forced a smile as they moved away, going on to their respective jobs as Booth ushered them off. A tear fell down her cheek and Booth wiped it away wordlessly, smiling at her.

"I'm in pain," Brennan said with a small laugh. Booth laughed with her as he ushered her into her office.

"You can't stay here all day, Booth; we both have work to do," she said as he took the couch in her office, lying down comfortably.

"Wanna bet? I'm not letting you out of my sight ever again! Or at least until Cullen gets _really_ angry at me," he said, smiling like a child who's just realized how to bend the rules. "Seriously, you can't go two days without me without getting into trouble."

Brennan frowned at him. "I'm fine on my own, Booth. I've been fine on my own for the past fifteen years," she argued. He moved over to her desk, leaning on it.

"Yeah, Bones, I know you have. But you don't _have_ to anymore," he said quietly. Brennan studied him, looking for any trace of sarcasm. He wasn't joking. "You don't have to do things on your own."

Brennan sighed, her resolve weakening. "You don't _have_ to watch me every minute of the day," she said, ignoring his previous comments in a silent acceptance. He smiled challengingly, leaning closer.

"And what if I _want_ to?"


	6. Chapter 6

**Spoilers:** May destroy some brain cells, but whatever.

**Disclaimer:** I am sun burnt (don't ask) and _un_believably tired...

**Author's Note: **Home sick from school. I don't actually want to be, but oh well. At least now I get to write...My bathroom taps keep making noises that sound something like a distraught whale. It's very disconcerting.

* * *

"Really, Booth. This is the third Limbo case today and you're still here..." Brennan breathed. He had not left her side all day. There had been no FBI-related cases, and she had a feeling Booth was watching her as much as he was avoiding paperwork.

"Oh, come on, Bones! You know this," he gestured to the steel table, "Fascinates me! I mean, that spatula you're holding is just...wow!"

Brennan closed her eyes as if warding off a headache. "Scapula, Booth. It's called a 'scapula', not a '_spatula_'! How much paperwork do you have, anyway?" Brennan fought the urge to throw his 'spatula' at his head.

"Paperwork? Me? Just because I'm here it means I'm shirking my duties?" he asked incredulously. Brennan scowled. "I just like watching you work." _True enough, _he surmised with a smirk.

Brennan mistook his statement, much to his relief. "Booth, you've never shown any interest in my work at all, unless it's immediately pertaining to a case we're working," she said, her voice rising just too much for the echoing building. "And we're not working a case." She folded her arms over her chest for emphasis. Booth rolled his eyes, holding up his hands in defeat. _Surrender, more like_, he thought to himself.

"Oh my God! It's so good to see you two've just picked up where you left off! I've missed your flirting..." Angela said with a mockingly wistful sigh as she ascended onto the platform, sketch-pad in hand. Brennan and Booth went silent and then started to babble incoherently as Angela grinned and walked away. The both went silent.

Brennan turned back around, back straight from annoyance and continued her work, quickly forgetting about Booth, who was sitting rather uncomfortably on a lab stool behind her. After about five minutes of silence the anger in the room had dissipated completely.

"A lot."

Startled, Brennan turned around and straightened too quickly from her leaning position over the table. Gasping, she closed her eyes, putting a hand to her stomach. Booth was up immediately.

"Bones? Y'okay, Bones? You shouldn't _move_ so fast..." he said parentally. She shot him a look, in too much pain to be affected by his compassion. She'd winded herself.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine." She waved off his hand which was hovering over hers. He placed his other hand on her shoulder and led her to his previous sitting place, not satisfied with her answer. "Booth," she breathed. Looking up, she decided to change the subject, not wanting to continue looking at Booth's caring expression.

"What's a lot?" she asked, trying to catch her breath.

"Huh?" Booth grunted. "What do you mean?"

"Before; you said 'A lot'. What did you mean by it?" Brennan asked, slightly worried she'd missed another joke.

"Paperwork. I have a lot," he stated dryly, wincing at the thought of the literal stacks in his office. He'd hid them behind his desk from Cullen for about three weeks, and they'd progressively piled up, nearly spilling _onto_ the desktop. He didn't tell Brennan that he'd taken almost all of hers with him. He'd left enough so as not to make her suspicious.

Brennan smiled. "So I was right, you are shirking your official FBI duties, Booth!" she teased, only half playing the triumph in her voice. Booth grinned.

"It's really your fault. I mean, if you hadn't gone and got all injured, I'd have done some of it instead of taking care of you," he said playfully, now just trying to annoy her. It worked brilliantly.

"_My_ fault? How is it my fault? _I_ didn't ask you to move in with me! And 'take care' of me? You should know better, Booth," she scolded, standing up so she was closer to his height. Booth smiled; she almost sounded sincere. Almost. He could tell she was enjoying herself a little. She always did.

She scowled at Booth's obvious amusement, putting her hands stubbornly on her hips. Booth only stared at her, smiling wider and wider each second that passed.

"Well, if you hadn't gone to Indonesia in the first place..." he started, as if it was perfectly simple. Brennan gawked.

"You may as well have said, "If you hadn't caused that landslide'!" Brennan said, her voice getting louder again.

"You? No way; you're _far_ too small to cause a landslide."

"What the hell are you talking about, Booth? Can't you be serious for once?" she said, rolling her eyes then settling them disconcertingly on Booth.

"I'm being perfectly serious, Bones. Do you see me smiling?" he countered, forcing his face to stay straight. _Poker face_, he told himself. He'd had enough practice. "No. You know why? Because I'm not. Not smiling. Not joking."

Brennan glared at him. "Booth, you are _not_ serious."

"Excuse me? Don't tell me when I'm serious or not!"

Across the lab, Angela listened to the argument progress, close to laughing at the absurdity of the comments being made. She knew that Booth was just trying to rile Brennan up; and Brennan was taking the bait magnificently. She smiled at how well Booth knew her. It had taken Angela years to figure Brennan out to the point Booth had.

_Though they do spend more time together than Bren and I..._, she concluded. _A _lot_ more_, she added with a grin. She tuned back into the argument, but all she could hear was Booth's laughter. She'd never heard him laughing so hard.

Angela stealthily moved out of her office and into the nearly deserted lab.

"If you...if you could have..." Booth stuttered between laughs. Brennan stared at him, not quite getting the joke yet. Booth sat down on the computer-stool, shoulders shaking, eyes shining. He looked up at Brennan before bursting into another fit of laughter.

Brennan hit his shoulder. "You're laughing at me!" she finally decided. "Stop laughing at me!"

Booth only laughed harder.

She tried a different approach. "What did I do that's so funny, Booth?" When he didn't respond, she poked his upper arm a few times. "Booth? Are you okay? Did you inhale something again?" Booth finally looked at her, his face a brilliant shade of red, tears in his eyes.

"Inhale? No, Bones..." he made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a giggle. "That was you." He burst out laughing again. Brennan looked at him, clueless and completely unsure of what to do with a full grown hysterical man. She rolled her eyes and decided to keep working. If she waited for this to subside, she'd never get anything done. She turned around muttering a quick "Shut up, Booth," and continued to work.

* * *

As the car started, Brennan stretched her arms, clenching and unclenching her fists a few times to get rid of the rigidity in her muscles. Booth looked over at her for a few seconds, grinned, then turned back around and pulled out of the parking lot. Brennan raised an eyebrow at him.

"Booth-"

"No."

"What? I didn't even ask you anything!" she cried, annoyed by him. Booth chuckled.

"No. No talking. You can talk when we get home," he said, sounding absolutely ridiculous. Brennan frowned at his odd behavior, but decided to let it go. 'Home' was only ten minutes away, anyhow; she could wait. She didn't know that he meant to go by his office on the way.

"Hold on, 'home'? Since when is my apartment 'home'?" she questioned, sounding both shocked and irritated. Booth only looked at her and grinned, running his knuckles down her cheek silently. Brennan's frown deepened. _What is _wrong_ with him?_ she cried mentally. But it had felt so good that she let it go for fear of saying something stupid.

Booth's attention remained on the road the rest of the way 'home'.

As soon as Brennan stepped through the doorway, she pounced. "Okay, so, now I'm allowed to talk," she started somewhat icily, "Will you tell me what on Earth is wrong with you today? I mean, first, you break into a fit of giggles, then you don't tell me why, then you don't let me speak..." she finished, taking a deep breath at the end. Booth looked at her straight faced.

"I don't giggle," he said innocently. Brennan fought the urge to hit him. Instead, she glared at him. Booth still winced. He held up his hands in surrender. "Okay, okay!"

Brennan smiled and signaled him to sit on the couch, following him. She pointed to the seat and gave him a look that said he probably wasn't going to be getting off that seat for a very long time. She out down the files she was carrying and he followed suit.

He looked at her and smiled happily. "You're just so cute when you're adamant!" he began, earning the most confused look he'd ever seen on his brilliant partner's face.

"You should have seen you face! You were just standing there with your hands on your hips pouting at me, and I couldn't help myself. You just looked...cute," he finished, somewhat calmed by the end of the sentence. He shrugged lightly as Brennan blinked at him silently.

"And then you got all confused, and it made me laugh more," he continued under Brennan's utterly incredulous gaze. "Really, Bones...You have no idea..." he said, chuckling at the memory. "With you, I just...I honestly can't help myself," he persisted with a small smile, shrugging. Brennan studies him for a second, surprising him when she spoke.

"Not that you need it, but would you like some wine?" she offered casually. Booth did an imitation of a fish for a second, and then closed his mouth and smiled, nodding.

"Yeah, wine sounds great!" he said excitedly, like a child and ice-cream. Brennan rolled her eyes and moved into the kitchen silently. Booth watched her go, then got up and followed her. He figured he was probably better off put to use than staring at her all night. That could get embarrassing...

She moved back to the couch, handing Booth his glass. He smiled down at her then snatched the bottle off the kitchen counter before following her. They settled at opposite ends of the couch, Brennan pulling her legs up under her in what Booth considered to be a very homely fashion.

He raised his glass slightly. "This one's to paperwork!" he said in a mock-serious tone. Brennan smiled, staring at the precariously stacked files on the table in front of them, and gave the files a cynically distasteful look.

"I hate paperwork," she said simply before picking up the top manila file and flipping it open. She picked up a pen and stuck it in her hair before sorting through some of the papers in it. Booth looked on, amazed that the conversation had been dropped so quickly. He picked up the next one in the huge pile.

They worked in silence for about half an hour before Booth heard Brennan chuckle. He looked at her from his file, confused. Why was she laughing at paperwork? Paperwork was _not_ funny.

"Bones?" he called. She looked at him, trying to stop smiling; to control herself. She only half succeeded and Booth gave her a crooked smile.

"I just remembered what you said about me being too small to cause a landslide," she explained. "It's quite funny, actually. I didn't notice at the time because I was angry at you, but it's funny." She grinned at him, then turned back to her paperwork, leaving a completely mystified Booth staring at the side of her head.

When her smile didn't fade, he reached out and turned her head to face him, his fingers on her jaw. She looked a little bewildered, but didn't move; she still smiled. Booth took this as a good sign.

"Your eyes change colour when you laugh," he said thoughtfully. He had decided earlier that week that he couldn't be so shut off anymore. She had to know. She frowned, but continued to smile at him.

"My eyes?" she questioned. Why was he talking abut her eyes? What did this have to do with anything?

"Yeah, Bones, your eyes. It's nice," he finished. She wasn't sure what he meant by that. Brennan's chin tipped forwards subtly, a movement that didn't go unnoticed by Booth.

"Nice?" she asked, curious but amused. Booth laughed softly at the question. He moved his fingers from her jaw to her cheekbone, running his fingers lightly just below her eye. She blinked heavily, as if suddenly exhausted, and tilted her head into his hand. All the while she smiled ever so faintly. He studied her, fascinated by her uninhibited behavior.

"Mmhm. The colour; there's something about it...It has reminds me of the sky. It changes depending on the weather," he joked, trying to keep Brennan from freaking out. When she smiled, he sighed, relieved.

"How is it, Booth, that you can compliment me and insult me all at the same time?" she asked skeptically. Booth grinned.

"It's a talent I've honed over the years," he said with a solemn nod. Brennan rolled her eyes then closed them momentarily. When they next locked with his, they were again a slightly different colour.

It looked as if she'd made up her mind about something.

* * *

I'm really not sure how I feel about this chapter...I think I like the beginning more than the end...

But to each their own; so any feedback you have would be much loved and nurtured and grown completely organically and given much Mozart to help it grow.

Thank you!


	7. Chapter 7

**Spoilers:** Couch, couch, couch, couch, couch, couch!

**Disclaimer:** Whatever.

**Author's Note:** I'm trying to make up for the uber-crappiness of the last chapter. I'd love to know if I've succeeded!

* * *

"What are you thinking about, Bones?" Booth asked calmly after perhaps ten minutes of more silent paperwork. She looked over to him, then frowned, as if deciding whether to tell him the truth or not.

"Well," she started cautiously, "I'm thinking now how much easier it is to do paperwork with someone else. It never gets done when I'm alone." She offered him a small smile, then refilled both their wine glasses. Booth chuckled.

"You know, Bones, if you keep doing that, we probably shouldn't be doing official paperwork," he laughed. Brennan rolled her eyes.

"You just can't hold alcohol, Booth." She sipped her wine for effect. It was his turn to roll his eyes dramatically, but he couldn't help but smile; only partially from the alcohol.

"Well, as long as Cullen won't notice that my signature isn't on the line..." he half-joked. Brennan took up the last folder he'd been using; the signature was just above the line, but unevenly so. She laughed at the messy scrawl.

"Booth, I don't even thin that _is_ your signature," she laughed with raised eyebrows. Booth grinned mischievously.

"Well, that settles that then!" he called. Brennan jumped at the volume of his voice a little, but quickly recovered, shooting him an odd look. "No more paperwork for me." He flashed his eyebrows, tossing the pen onto the table and leaning back into the couch with his fingers linked behind his head.

Brennan ignored his defeat and looked back to the file she was holding; only to notice that it was just slightly fuzzy. She put it down to tiredness and rubbed her eyes. She put her pen to the paper and signed on the line. She heard Booth laugh. She turned her head.

"What's so funny this time?" she sighed, sticking her pun between her teeth as she pulled her hair back and tied it up out of her face. He leaned over, basically falling on her in the process, and pointed to her signature.

"I think the wine has more of an effect than you think, Bones..." he whispered solemnly, though a smile remained plastered on his face. Brennan looked to where he was pointing. "Unless your name is suddenly Special Agent Seeley Booth, Doctor Temperance Brennan," he laughed. Brennan frowned at him, then looked back to the paper. She had, indeed, signed on the wrong line.

"Oh. Maybe I should stop, after all...I might get us fired," she added with an alcohol-induced giggle. Booth looked up at her, leaning with his side against her legs, his head resting on her arm. Booth liked he sound of her laughter and made a decision.

"I think we need more wine," he stated, getting up relatively steadily. "I mean, if we're not going to do paperwork, we may as well; we're already half-way there," he said with a wink, moving into the kitchen. Brennan protested half-heartedly.

"Booth, we have to work tomorrow! I, for one, do not want to have a headache all day," she scolded as Booth approached the couch with a bottle of something that looked suspiciously stronger than wine. She cocked an eyebrow. "Booth?"

"Well, I figured if we were going to get plastered, we may as well do it properly," he joked, earning a frown from Brennan. "Oh come on! This is good stuff! It isn't like we're going to drink it all." Both turned to study the bottle as he sat back down. "We'd die of alcohol poisoning," he added dryly. Brennan laughed and Booth grinned.

Booth poured a small amount of the dark liquid into each empty wine glass. Brennan smelled it and pulled a face. Booth swallowed it in one go, wincing terribly. Brennan gave him a quick look, then downed her own, mirroring Booth's earlier expression.

"Oh, my God, it's disgusting!" Brennan exclaimed when she could finally speak again. Booth laughed and nodded.

"Yep. The worst," he said with a sly grin, pouring two more shots. Brennan looked disdainfully at the drink before looking back to Booth.

"So what's the occasion? Today was...well, it wasn't really what you'd call '_bad_'," she offered. She found it odd that she and Booth were getting drunk when they hadn't had a hard day. They hadn't had a case together in a month.

"Oh, you know. This and that..." he tried. Brennan's look told him not to leave it there. "I thought we'd celebrate your recovery," he told her.

Brennan laughed cynically. "Well, if that isn't a reason to drink, I don't now what is." Booth laughed, then shot a look at their glasses.

"One..." he started, slinging his arm over the back of the couch. Brennan got the game.

"Two..."

"Three!" they said together, throwing back their drinks simultaneously. Brennan threw her head back in disgust, leaving it resting on Booth's arm. She closed her eyes, not sure how much of the dizziness was actually coming from the alcohol. She was sober enough to control her actions, but drunk enough to justify anything. _Perfect,_ she thought happily.

Booth looked at her as she closed her eyes, studying her as she leaned against him ever so lightly, a small smile on her face. She looked extremely peaceful, and he wondered for a second whether she'd fallen asleep. He started when she spoke.

"You were scared, weren't you?" she asked, opening her eyes and turning her head on his arm to face him. She saw the confusion on his face. "When I was in hospital," she stated to clarify.

Booth blinked a few times. "Yeah, Bones," he sighed. To her surprise, he took that moment as an excuse to pull her closer, wrapping his arm around her shoulders as she leaned against him. To his absolute shock, she laughed.

"What is this, payback for today?" he asked, somewhat irritated. Brennan's shoulders shook against him.

"No, Booth. I don't know about you, but I'm not petty enough to feel the need to retaliate against something so childish," she said haughtily. "Anthropologically speaking..."

Booth tuned out. He was amazed that she spoke anthropology even when she was drinking. It was odd, and a little annoying, but he found it irresistibly attractive.

She was still rambling when he turned her face up to his with his free hand and pressed his lips to hers firmly. _That'll shut her up_,Booth thought happily. He pulled away slowly before she had time to respond the way she would have liked.

"Booth," she whispered. He smiled at her.

"You can blame it on the alcohol if you like," he said back, leaning down again. She stopped him by pulling away from him slightly. She looked at him pointedly.

"I'd rather be able to say that alcohol had nothing to do with it, if you don't mind," she stated in a monotone, not wanting to give too much away as well as not knowing exactly how he'd react or whether he'd pick up on what she meant. He did. And to her surprise he nodded.

"No, I don't mind at all, Bones. In fact, I think that is an incredibly good idea," he said thoughtfully, as if the brilliance of it was starting to dawn on him. His smile widened as he looked back down at her.

"On one condition," he said, holding up one finger. Brennan rolled her eyes, groaning. His conditions were never safe.

"Okay, fine. What?"

"You have to spend the night with me," he stated simply. Brennan's eyebrows pulled together; she wasn't sure what he was saying.

"What? But you're living here...You've been 'spending the night' for a week!" she stated, completely confused. Booth laughed.

"I didn't mean it like that," he said. Brennan's eyes suddenly widened, and she pulled away from him.

"Booth!" she nearly yelled. "Why would you think that I would be okay with that, if I wasn't okay with you kissing me?" she demanded. Booth laughed again.

"I didn't mean it like that, either, Bones," he said calmly, interrupting her rant. She stopped and stared at him. What the Hell was going on inside his head? "Just stay with me," he amended. Brennan suddenly looked incredibly embarrassed as what he had meant dawned on her.

"Oh. Sorry, I thought you wanted to-"

"Yeah. Yeah, Bones, I know what you thought," he said, chuckling as he nodded. Brennan smiled at him.

"Okay, then. I suppose it couldn't hurt..." she said, more to herself than to him. Booth grunted.

"Gee, thanks, Bones. You really know how to make a guy feel special..." he said, shaking his head at her.

"Wait. On one condition," she said, scaring him by mimicking him. Her conditions were never safe.

"No, Bones, you can't sleep with your gun under your shirt," he sighed dramatically. Brennan hit his arm, laughing.

"Shut up, Booth."

"Sorry. What?" he said, striving to stay as serious as he could with the image of Brennan sleeping innocently with a huge gun stuffed under her shirt. She stood up, holding out her hand.

"We are _not_ sleeping on the couch."


	8. Chapter 8

**Spoilers:** Poking could be a fun way to be woken up...

**Disclaimer:** Yadda, yadda, yadda.

**Author's Note:** Okay, this chapter is pure BB fluff. There's probably about one chapter left, I'd say. Sounds about right...

* * *

Booth grunted and shifted slightly in the bed. There was a weight on his chest, and it seemed to be almost pulsating, like an impossibly slow heartbeat. For a few seconds, the pressure would slowly increase, and then it would suddenly be gone entirely, only to be repeated again.

"Booth."

He grunted again. Who was talking to him? And why was he so _comfortable_?

"Booth." The weight on his chest became more persistent, and he opened his eyes. A pain wound up through the back of his skull into his temples and he sucked in a deep breath. As he did, he smelled something familiar. Without getting up, he forced his eyes open, only to find Brennan sitting on the bed, her forefinger jammed into his chest.

"Bones?" He raised an eyebrow. She was sitting on the edge of the bed, dressed for work; but, he noted, her hair was still damp.

"Finally," she breathed. "I've been trying to wake you for ten minutes. We have to go to work." Booth smiled at her professionalism, then looked down at her finger.

"Bones?" he waited for her to look up. "Why are you poking me?" Brennan looked at her hand in confusion.

"Well, you were asleep...And I wanted to wake you up," she stated calmly. Booth laughed as Brennan's brows pulled together.

"You do know there are more effective ways to do that, right?" he laughed. Brennan smiled against her will. Even first thing in the morning he was charming. Little did she know how much of that had to do with her. "And why are you dressed? Surely we don't have to be at work for ages!" he said, sounding amazingly like a child. She rolled her eyes.

"Just get up, Booth," she finished, standing up.

"Oh, no, you don't!" Booth called after her, grabbing her arm and pulling her back down. He looked at her pointedly. "You're staying put." Brennan rolled her eyes again, fighting to be annoyed at Booth with him so close.

"Booth, we have to leave soon. Work. You know, that thing you've been putting off for far, far too long," she teased, recalling their conversation about paperwork from the previous night. But what did not help her situation was that she couldn't just remember that and not remember everything else. Booth leaned over her very deliberately to look at the clock on her bedside table.

He heard her sharp intake of breath and smiled to himself. When he saw the clock, he gawked.

"What do you mean, 'work'?" he exclaimed. Brennan looked up at him hopelessly, knowing she was sufficiently small enough to be trapped under him until he saw fit. "It's six o'clock! What are you doing going to work? What are you doing _awake_?" he added cynically. She heaved a sigh, for a second forgetting the fact that Booth was still practically lying across her.

"I'm _normally_ at work before now, but because _you_ insisted on sleeping like a stone-"

"Rock-"

"I'm late." Booth laughed, reminding Brennan all too much that she was still pinned underneath him. She glared at him for laughing at her while she clenched her fists in the hope of self-control.

"What?" she asked icily. Booth grinned.

"Oh, nothing, Bones. Everything's fine," he said, still grinning. "In fact, everything's wonderful; it couldn't be better." He looked at her, eyes gleaming. Brennan wasn't sure exactly what to do. He was staring at her intensely.

_...As if he wants to kiss me_, she decided with a hint of fear. She held eye contact for as long as she could.

"Booth?"

He smiled kindly. "Mm?" Words were perhaps beyond him at this point.

"You're hurting me," she told him flatly, looking insistently at her stomach, which was presently completely covered by Booth's. Realization hit him full force, and he jumped back, a look of worry on his face.

"Ah, I'm sorry, Bones..." he said, sounding genuinely sorry. "I forgot," he said sheepishly. Brennan couldn't think of anything to say, so instead, she nodded, standing up. She watched Booth's gaze follow her progression as he stared at her shirt, as if mentally picturing her bruise.

Really, it was just an excuse to stare at her, though she'd never pick up on it. She mistook his stare as he hoped she would. "Really, Booth, it's fine. It's getting much better." Booth looked into her eyes.

"Yeah, good. I'm glad," he said appropriately, offering her a small smile. Brennan nodded towards the bedroom door.

"I made coffee, so when you're decent...?" she let the question ask itself before retreating into the hallway, closing the door behind her.

She got into the kitchen and braced herself against the bench with both hands, trying to get her thoughts in order. _Decent, indeed, Brennan!_, she scolded herself. She wasn't sure exactly why she was annoyed at herself; she just knew very well that she was.

She heard the shower and allowed herself a small smile. A smile he wouldn't ever see, she could now be quite sure. Despite her anger at herself, it wasn't like she didn't recognize what it was that she had just felt. Knowing he was out-of-bounds was undeniably frustrating, in more ways than one, but it was still a nice idea to entertain; and she was still a woman.

But she could rationalize enjoying her fantasies by telling herself that it was never going to happen in reality. She'd never let it. And, she knew, Booth wouldn't either.

Booth stepped into the shower grinning. Despite his stupid _line_, they were, he knew, both enjoying themselves earlier. She could deny it all she liked, but she was attracted to him; he knew it. Now all he had to do was convince Bones of his revelation.

And that would not be easy.

But, as far as he was concerned, things were working quite well in his favour. She had all but admitted that she wanted to kiss him the night before. Granted, she was a little drunk, but Brennan wasn't one to become irrational when she was drunk. _Bones, irrational. Ha!_

He scoffed to himself as he picked up the soap.

* * *

"Decent enough for you, Bones?" Booth called as he sauntered into the kitchen, towel around waist, a singlet flung carelessly over his wet body. Brennan choked on her coffee. He was almost glad he'd decided against less clothing.

"Why do I think you're being sarcastic?" she asked sweetly once she could speak again. He only grinned and moved over to the bench, pouring himself a coffee. He took note of the speed at which she moved across the small kitchen to the opposite bench, leaning against it as if she had been there the whole time.

_Booth: one. Bones: nil, _he counted in his head, grinning.

"Booth, we still have to go-"

"Bones," he interrupted. "You are not leaving this house until seven, okay?" Brennan began to argue, shaking her head furiously, a look of anger starting to cover her face. "Don't even." He held up a warning finger.

Brennan rolled her eyes, realizing that it was purely useless to argue. "What am I supposed to do until then?" she asked, annoyance seeping through every word. Booth looked at her over his raised mug.

"I can think of some things..." he said suggestively, smiling behind his coffee when he saw realization hit her. She came worryingly close to choking again, and he wondered how many times he could do that in a day.

_Booth: two,_ the mental scorecard yelled.

Brennan decided to ignore the comment, for fear of her mental health. "Well, there's some washing I've been meaning to do for a while..." He laughed. She wasn't joking, simply ignoring his comment.

She was actually contemplating washing. He rolled his eyes. "Bones, how about I got get dressed and you go sit on the couch, and I'll be there in a second," he suggested, registering the confusion etched on her face. He put a hand on her shoulder and guided her to the cough, putting pressure on her shoulder that told her to sit down.

To his surprise, she obeyed, and he moved into the bedroom to get dressed.

Brennan looked around the living room, terrified. What on Earth was he doing? Why he holding her hostage? _Why am I letting him?_ She asked herself as it hit her that she'd just gone along with it. She stood up to refill her coffee cup, just as Booth emerged from the bedroom.

He still looked unreasonably good, despite the fact that he was now wearing suit pants, rather than his far-too-small towel, and he had an unbuttoned shirt on over his singlet. Brennan caught herself before her thoughts got any further.

"Bones, what are you doing? Couch. Now," he said firmly, teasing her. She rolled her eyes.

"I'm refilling my coffee, Booth; I'll be there in a minute. Whatever it is we're 'there' for," she added under her breath. Booth looked at her as if gauging the possibility that she would sneak off versus the possibility of her shooting him, and _then_ running off. Finally, he nodded.

Brennan smiled a small victory smile, immediately chastising herself for being so petty.

_Booth: two, Brennan: one,_ he thought, begrudgingly.

"So what are we doing?" she asked as she sat back down, just out of non-professional-touching range. Booth moved closer, determined to play a little before she realized exactly what it was he was doing.

"Well, Bones," he started casually, "We're here, because of you." He grinned. She frowned at his proximity. He was too close for safety's sake.

"Me? Seriously, Booth, why are we here?" she persisted. Now she was just scared. And a little annoyed.

"Well, last night you said something," he told her, sounding amazingly self-assured for someone who was almost shaking with nervousness. She looked a little lost.

"Last night I said a lot of things, Booth. Which specific 'thing' are you talking about?" she asked innocently. Well, she could have a little fun of her own. She knew Booth was playing with her. She knew very well what he was talking about. But she could still make this her game.

Or prolong it enough so that she could avoid it altogether.

Taking the mug from her hands and putting it on the table, his hand moved to her face, warm still from the coffee. Her eyes closed as he moved closer. "This one," he mumbled against her lips.

Her game it most definitely was not.

* * *


	9. Chapter 9

**Spoilers:** Eeeeeh. Oh, last chapter. Thought you'd like to know.

**Disclaimer:** Whatever. But there's a little...innuendo, here, so yeah. Just...yeah...If you think I should change the rating, just tell me. I mean, it isn't that bad, it's only Angela having some fun! Tee hee. Thanks heaps to everyone who's reviewed this story! It makes me happier every time! Seriously, I'm fully _elated_ right now. Thanks everyone!

**Author's Note:** If you wouldn't have picked up on it, the first conversation between Booth and Brennan is about the poking thing. Just thought you'd like to know...Well, this chapter has taken me ages because I haven't had the computer in ages. But I find it entertaining. Haha. Don't know if you will...But tell me what you think! Feedback is loved, especially because this is the _last chapter!_

* * *

"All I'm saying, Bones, is that there are more effective ways of waking people up!"

Angela looked up as she heard Booth's voice booming across the lab. Spotting her favourite pair, she grinned, watching from a distance.

"Well it worked, didn't it?" came Brennan's response. Angela's ears just about pricked up when she heard the conversation properly. _How on Earth did she wake him up?_ she asked herself with a giggle, images running through her head. If it was anything like how she woke Hodgins up...

"Yeah, it worked, but that's not the point, Bones," he said, sounding genuinely irritated. The climbed the stairs to her office, dumping their things on her couch carelessly. They were so absorbed in their argument that they didn't bother with the formalities of putting things in the right places.

"Then what _is_ the point, Booth? This is a ridiculous conversation, with nothing even remotely relevant to _anything_!" Angela ran up the stairs, stopping as soon as she had a good view of the two. This could get interesting. "Especially not at work!" she scolded, frowning at Booth.

Very interesting.

Booth took a step forward, seriously invading Brennan's personal space like no one else could; like no one else would dare. "Fine. Then we'll talk about it tonight," he said, a few decibels quieter than before. Angela had to strain to hear, and she took a few steps closer.

"Tonight? Booth, you can't stay tonight," Brennan answered, all annoyance gone from her voice. Now she was just stating fact. Booth's cocked his head, giving her his patented why-the-hell-not-? look.

"And why not?" he asked mutinously, a grin growing bigger. Angela had no idea what was going on. Brennan was being scientific about Booth staying at her house, and Booth was taking some kind of satisfaction out of it. _Well, _some_thing happened,_ she chimed. _Whether it was a good thing..._

"Because I'm getting my stitches out today, Booth. You promised to leave once the stitches were out, remember? Or were you too busy burning yourself in my kitchen?" she asked icily. Now she was irritated again. But Angela saw something else in her friend's demeanor. Something unrecognizable in Brennan.

To Angela's absolute shock, Booth laughed, holding up a finger. "Judging by this burn mark; yes. Does that mean I don't have to leave?" he asked more pitifully than any man ever should have to.

Brennan rolled her eyes and took off her coat, over-shirt and scarf, throwing them onto the couch with the rest of their things. As Brennan moved to get her blue lab coat off the chair behind her desk, Booth grabbed her from behind, a hand on each hip holding her in place.

Angela choked. What the hell was going on with them? From their next exchange, she realized she knew exactly what was going on.

Brennan's eyes closed, and Booth pulled her back with no apparent debate on her part. He leaned down and whispered something in her ear, before running his lips up and down the back of her neck. She shook her head pathetically, mumbling something inaudible as she let her head fall back onto Booth's shoulder in the most out of character movement Angela had ever seen in Brennan.

Angela stifled a giggle, for fear of pulling her two friends out of their own little world, and backed away as quietly as she could. As soon as she turned her head, she heard Brennan call out.

She swiveled at the sound of her name. "Damn!" she muttered as she approached the two. "Hey, Sweetie! I was starting to get worried about you two," she said impishly. Brennan and Booth looked at each other, completely differing expressions on their faces. Brennan looked lost, and she wanted Booth to explain. Booth looked both guilty and amused as he wrapped an arm around Brennan's shoulders possessively.

"Nothing to worry about, Ange," he said happily as he grabbed Brennan's lab coat and all but dragged her away. Angela raised an eyebrow at Brennan's obvious complacency. Had Booth actually managed this on one night? Angela giggled.

_Must have been some mind-blowing sex!_, she laughed to herself as she followed them down to the lab.

* * *

"Hm," Brennan grunted. Angela, Hodgins, Booth and Zach's heads all snapped up, hopeful expressions plastered on the faces.

"What?" Booth asked impatiently.

"I don't know, yet, Booth. You keep interrupting me with your stupid questions," she scolded. Her voice, however, stayed completely disconnected, a perfect monotone. She was just arguing out of habit. Angela grinned again; her cheeks were going to be paying for this later.

"Asking you what you are 'hm'-ing about is _not_ a stupid question, Bones. Now if I were asking you to hurry up; _that _would be a stupid question," he finished with a smirk. Brennan threw her gloves at him, glaring. Now she was angry.

"In more than one way," Hodgins whispered to Angela, eliciting a giggle. Booth glared at him and Zach looked clueless. Angela leaned over further towards Hodgins.

"You know, I hear latex is pretty good for spanking," she said, her voice pure smut. Hodgins looked at her with intrigued delight, and Booth shot her a furious stare. Angela smirked at him.

Brennan, who hadn't heard the end of their exchange, went on. "Booth, sit down," she said. Booth saluted.

"Yes, ma'am!" He was too disconcerted and annoyed by Angela's comments for any kind of chivalry; even for argument. Not that Angela's imagery had helped his thought process at all. He silently cursed her for saying that. Especially at work. _With witnesses_, he added scathingly, out of necessity keeping his eyes off Brennan for the remainder of the afternoon.

* * *

"Are you _sure_?" Booth stressed. Brennan nodded instantly, grabbing hold of the hem of her shirt. He stared at her for a few seconds, before nodding himself and pushing her down by her shoulders to sit on the relatively uncomfortable wooden dining chair.

"Okay, Bones. Now. You may have to help me out, here. I've never done this before..." he said sheepishly. Worry flashed across Brennan's face only momentarily, before she regained all the control she was used to having over her reactions.

"Would you just do it already?" she said, forcing irritation into her voice. She didn't want to let him know how much she was not looking forward to this. She gingerly lifted the hem of her shirt further, stopping just as her bra was showing and the quickly-fading bruise was completely visible. She turned slightly to her side.

At the first sight of the wound on her ribcage, Booth closed his eyes, sucking in a deep breath. Brennan rolled her eyes. "Oh, come on, Booth! You've seen worse than this. We see worse than this every day. Besides, as a soldier, you must have seen worse," she stated. Why the hell was he drawing out such an uncomfortable moment?

"Okay, for starters, Bones, those people are dead. Dead, not alive. _Dead_," he said, unsure who he was really reiterating that to. They were obviously both fully aware that the remains they worked with were, indeed, dead.

Brennan went to speak, but Booth but her off. "And the soldiers...In war you're in a completely different mindset. I can't even imagine doing some of the things I did...Pulling out bullets..." he traled off as an involuntary shiver passed through him. Brennan looked at him sympathetically.

"Besides," he started with a small smile, "They...they weren't you..." he admitted, eyes downcast, before rising to meet hers. After a few seconds of simply staring at one another, he suddenly grinned. "I didn't have to struggle to control myself at seeing their bare skin," he said suggestively.

Brennan's eyes widened as he looked back to her side and cut the stitches swiftly, before pulling them out in the only way that seemed appropriate. She made a surprised sound when he began, but sat perfectly still, making not a noise after that. Focused on his task of not injuring Bones more than she already was, he wiped the wound with the sterile gauze-pad Brennan had set out for him.

When he'd walked into the kitchen, he'd felt like an infant; everything was set out for him. It annoyed him because then he had no excuse to screw up. Not that he'd ever do that. Not with His Bones. He was supposed to take care of her, not harm her. There was no room for failure when it came to her.

He'd scoffed at himself, thinking how Brennan would have reacted if he'd spoken that aloud. He was glad he hadn't, that much was sure.

Brennan's voice brought him back to the present. He briefly wondered how long he'd been disinfecting her.

"It's always fascinated me. You'd think, logically, that the more pain one had been subjected to, the less susceptible one would be to it. But that's not true, because every time I get hurt, it hurts just as damn much!" she added to her scientific spiel, making Booth laugh.

He looked up at her, finally, and she smiled back, something of amusement playing on her face. Booth thought for a second, before leaning down again, pressing his lips just to the side of the almost-healed cut. In spite of herself, she jumped at the contact of his lips and her bare skin, forcing herself to breathe.

Booth grabbed the hem of her shirt very deliberately from her hand, and pulled it down; exactly the opposite of what she was expecting. Or hoping, she wasn't quite sure. He kept hold of her hand, however and placed a kiss on her palm.

"So," he started in a deliberately sensual tone.

"Yes?" she managed before he kissed the inside of her wrist. He looked at her, eyes shining, lips cocked in a smug version of his Charm Smile.

"Well, now that your stitches are out..." he trailed off, leaving her a moment to figure out what he was saying as he moved back to her hand. "I have to go." She made an involuntary grunt that sounded to Booth like defiance. He grinned into her palm before placing her hand on her lap and placing both of his on either side of her face.

She leaned in to meet him half way only to be stopped by his hands, her mouth just brushing his. She opened her eyes to meet his. To her surprise, they were filled with unabashed amusement. His lips teased hers as he spoke.

"Booth: game."

* * *


End file.
